


Hurts Like Hell

by supersonicsidekick



Series: Game Of Survival [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham (Video Games), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 15:54:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12039240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersonicsidekick/pseuds/supersonicsidekick
Summary: The story of Jason Todd, set in the Batman: Arkham Series.





	1. Sixteen Months

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for graphic violence, torture, brainwashing/conditioning, psychological/emotional trauma, mild Stockholm Syndrome, brief suicidal thoughts, and the Joker. And that's just in this chapter. This fic will deal with trauma and Jason's recovery, but there won't be any healthy coping mechanisms till the final chapter. It's Jason, after all, and his version of coping was to assemble an army to kill the person he was brainwashed to hate. Not exactly the healthiest coping method. Content warnings will be in the author's notes of every chapter.
> 
> Also, I just wanted to say that since I have C-PTSD, I will attempt to portray Jason's PTSD as accurately as possible, using some of my own symptoms. For example, my brother (he was 20 when I was seven, so trust me, it was an uneven power dynamic. I'm tired of most people assuming that it wasn't abuse because we were siblings, and siblings just play ruff. He was an adult while I was still a little kid, and he threatened me-sometimes with knives, sometimes without-hit me, yelled at me, made fun of me because I have 'behaved weirdly'-my therapist said that I have Asperger's syndrome-and more.) used to threaten me with knives, so I associate knives or people holding knives, however harmless, with danger. Similarly, Jason does this with crowbars. I even plan to eventually put him on the medication I take, which partially helps with the Anxiety PTSD causes. I also plan on incorporating some aspects I don't have since Jason's case would be more severe.

Groaning, Jason opened his eyes to darkness. His head was fuzzy, his mouth dry, and his entire body ached. He attempted to stand, crying out in pain when he put weight on his legs. He slumped back to the floor, panting heavily. There was no way his right ankle wasn't broken. Since he wasn't going to be moving anytime soon, he decided to take stock of his injuries. In addition to his ankle, he most likely had a couple of broken ribs and a concussion, and was missing some teeth.

 

That wasn't exactly good, but it didn't matter in the long run. Batman would come save him in no time, Dr. Thompkins would treat his injuries, and Alfred would dote on him like the mother hen he was. Everything would be fine. He just had to stay calm and keep himself alive till then, which was easier said than done, considering he had no idea where he was.

 

Suddenly, a maniacal laugh rang out in the darkness, and the memories came flooding back to him. _Joker. The Kindergarten massacre. The tiny, so very tiny, body parts stitched together; the miss-matched corpses of children. Parents sobbing, unable to even identify which pieces used to be their kids. Joker’s voice on the school intercom singing. Blood, so much blood; a trail of it leading back to Arkham Asylum._

 

As soon as he’d seen the gruesome scene, he’d known what he needed to do. The Joker had to be stopped, permanently. Sending him back to Arkham was pointless. He would just be out again within the week, maybe a month if Gotham was lucky. And Gotham was hardly ever lucky.

 

Steeling himself, Jason knew what he had to do. Batman might not be able to cross that line, but Jason would. He might not be able to save these kids, but he could prevent that monster from hurting anyone else. No matter what it cost him.

 

With his communications and tracker disabled, Jason turned to follow the blood trail, content in the fact that Batman wouldn’t be able to find him, that Batman wouldn’t be able to stop him.

 

In what felt like no time at all, he had arrived on Arkham Island. The trail continued to an abandoned wing, long since forgotten. Entering the Sanatorium, he couldn’t help but think about the events that had led to him coming here. A parent trying desperately to piece together her son, not making much progress, when the Joker’s voice blasted over the intercom. “ _Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall…_ ”

 

Pushing the memory down, Jason opened the door and searched for a way to reach the inmate cells he knew were located below. After a moment he found his entrance, an old laundry chute, conveniently big enough for someone his size to fit in. Just the type of thing Bruce trained him to look for.

 

Pulling back the heavy iron doors blocking his way, he descended into darkness. That was when everything went wrong. Joker was expecting him, or at least expecting someone, and had left a trap. The net half-way down the chute caught him before promptly breaking and sending him tumbling onto hard floor.

 

Jason gritted his teeth and attempted to get up. He was Robin, and Robin didn’t let anything stop him, even pain. Then the crowbar struck him in the face; he thinks it took out two of his teeth. Another hit, this time breaking his ankle. As more blows rained down, all Jason could hear was the Joker, still singing. “ _All the king’s horses and all the king’s men, couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty together again._ ”

 

He must have blacked out sometime after that, most likely from pain.

 

“Oh, goodie, goodie. For a minute there I was worried I’d hit you too hard, and you wouldn't be waking up. And then we wouldn't be able to have any _fun_.”

 

A single bulb hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room abruptly flickered on, showing the Joker, signature grin on his face, crowbar in hand, and, most importantly, too close for comfort.

 

His hair stood on end; his heart beating rapidly in his chest. His instincts told him to _run_ , to get as far away from Joker as possible. But he ignored them, instead opting to stay his ground. The Joker scared him, but no way in hell was he going to show it.

 

Jason moved to sit up. Pain, so intense he could barely breathe, flared through him as he aggravated his injuries. He pushed through it, until he was in the desired position.

 

Joker looked positively gleeful, no doubt because of Jason’s suffering. He began to twirl the crowbar in his hand, a glint in his eye that Jason knew meant trouble.

 

Fighting the urge to make himself smaller, Jason took a deep breath. There was no need to panic. Batman was the _World’s Greatest Detective_. He would find him, with or without a functioning tracker. All he had to do was stall, give B time to pick up his trail, just like he’d been trained to do.

 

“So, you wanna hear about the time I jacked Batman’s tires?”

 

Joker didn't respond, just smiled wider, but Jason hadn't really expected him to.

 

“So I was twelve,” he continued, prepared to talk for as long as it took for Batman to find him.

 

* * *

 

Jason’s mouth was dry, his lips chapped, and his jaw aching. He had been talking for hours: about the time he stole B’s tires; about being pen pals with Kid Devil; about Two-Face killing his father right in front of him; about that time he, Batgirl, and Nightwing took the Batmobile for a joyride; about the time he was briefly Harvey Bullock’s partner, on account of Batman being a major asshole; about how _Pride and Prejudice_ is a literary masterpiece; even about his mother, when he couldn't think of anything else. Pretty much the only thing he hadn't told the Joker at this point was B’s secret identity, and he intended to keep it that way.

 

Uncharastically, the Joker had remained quiet the whole time he talked, his grin growing more and more unnerving as the time passed.

 

He was out of distractions, and Batman still hadn't found him.

 

Taking a shaky breath, he prepared for whatever came next. He had endured his abusive father for a decade, lived on the street for almost three years, and fought Gotham’s worst for over two. He was a survivor, a fighter. He could handle himself till Batman came, no matter what the Joker threw at him.

 

Joker pushed off the wall he had been leaning on while Jason spoke and approached Jason, crowbar in hand and a gleam in his eye.

 

“Now, _this_ is going to be fun.” Joker’s smile grew impossibly wide. “Night, night Birdy.”

 

He brought the crowbar down on Jason’s head.

 

* * *

 

When Jason woke up, he was tied to a wheelchair, a hood covering his head, making it hard to breathe.

 

* * *

 

The hood was yanked off Jason’s head. “Wakey, wakey Jason.”

 

Jason startled, causing the barbed wire binding him to dig into his skin. His eyes slowly focused on the Joker, standing next to a hospital grade equipment tray stand housing a variety of what could only be described as instruments of torture—a crowbar, a meat hook, a surgical saw, a scalpel, a serrated blade, a drill, a cattle prod, and an ice pick.

 

Jason had been dreading this. It had been a few days since the Joker had taken him prisoner—at least, that’s how long he thought it had been, he had no way to tell time, after all—and the Joker hadn't been anywhere near him since his capture. Jason knew that it wouldn't last, that Joker would be back sooner or later, with his _toys_. Jason had been counting on Batman to rescue him before it happened, but that didn't seem very likely at the moment.

 

As distracted as he was by what he was sure to come, it took Jason a moment to realize that Joker had said his name—his  _civilian_ name. There was no way he should know who he was, Jason had taken every precaution, had made sure not to reveal anything that could be traced back to him, to Bruce and Barbara and Alfred and Dick. Just the thought of the Joker hurting them had his stomach in knots.

 

Deciding that the Joker had to be bluffing and just got lucky, Jason played dumb. “Jason?”

 

Joker shook his finger in a scolding motion. “Now, now, Jason. Don't be coy. It’s unbecoming.” He smiled, showing teeth. “And unnecessary. After all, I already know all about you, kiddo. Harvey was such a dear, filling me in like that.”

 

He paused, as if for dramatic effect. Knowing the Joker, it probably was. “Hey, did you know that your dad was the only person Harvey’s killed in front of their kid? Who would've thought?” Joker broke off into laughter.

 

Jason couldn't think, couldn't breathe. This couldn't be happening. Joker couldn't know who he was.

 

“Now, now, kiddo, don't look so down. This is a good thing. We can skip the formalities and get straight to business.” He picked up the crowbar from the equipment tray. “Now sit back, relax, and let good ol’ Uncle J gonna take care of you, just like your father did.”

 

Joker began to circle Jason, twirling the crowbar in his hands. “Now, where to begin?”

 

* * *

 

Jason almost got his hopes up when, after the hood obscuring his vision was removed, he saw someone wearing an Arkham Guard uniform. Almost, because this was Gotham, after all; the majority of the police force was corrupt, why would the security officers at Arkham be any different. Jason’s suspicions were confirmed when he saw the IV drip rolling behind him.

 

After he had placed the IV by Jason, the guard pulled out a flask. Between that and the scar over his left eye, it wasn't hard to identify the guard as Frank Boles. Jason wasn't at all surprised; from the moment he had met Boles, he hadn't liked him.

 

Boles traded the flask for a bottle of water. Jason stared at it wistfully. His mouth was the driest it had ever been in his life, including the years he spent on the street. He hadn't had so much as a sip of water since he’d been imprisoned in Arkham and knew wouldn't be able to go on much longer without it—probably wouldn't even make it through the day.

 

Suddenly, Boles grabbed Jason by his hair and yanked his head back, before shoving the bottle into his mouth. Jason choked, water spilling into his clothes. He couldn't breathe. It was like he was drowning, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Finally, just when he thought he would pass out, the bottle was empty, only about half of it actually going down his throat.

 

Jason coughed and sputtered, desperately trying to gulp down air. His lungs burned so bad he almost didn't notice the prick of the IV needle on his inner arm. He tried to struggle, to dislodge the needle, unsure of the IV bags contents, but it was useless. His binding was too tight; struggling only logged the barbed wire deeper into his skin.

 

Once the IV bag was empty, Boles roughly yanked the needle out of Jason’s arm and left without a word.

 

* * *

 

The next time the Joker visited, he wasn't alone; a woman wearing a white coat and holding a medical kit was being held at gunpoint. Joker pushed her forward, waving the gun in Jason’s direction.

 

“Get to work, Doc.”

 

She slowly made her way over to Jason and knelt to examine his broken ankle. He hissed when she made contact.

 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, but she didn't stop. She didn't have a choice.

 

Jason tried to hold back any further sounds of pain and was mostly successful. After what felt like an eternity, the doctor let go of his ankle and looked at the Joker, a frown on her face. “His ankle is definitely broken. It wasn't properly set when it first happened, so It’ll have to be re-broken.”

 

“Perfect.”

 

“I have pain medicine in my—”

 

Joker cut her off. “That won't be necessary. Jason here’s a big boy. He can handle it, can't you Jason?”

 

The doctor looked like she wanted to argue, but kept silent out of fear.

 

Joker didn't wait for a reply, trading his gun for a crowbar. Jason closed his eyes, willing Batman to burst into the room and save him.

 

Then the crowbar came down, and Jason couldn't think about anything, couldn't hear anything except his own screams and the Joker’s laughter.

 

* * *

 

As time passed, Jason noticed a pattern. Once a week, Boles would bring him water and a nourishment IV drip. It was never enough, just the bare minimum to keep him alive. Jason had grown accustomed to the burning in throat, the gnawing in the pit of his stomach.

 

The next day, Joker would bring the doctor, who would set any broken bones, treat any serious or life threatening injuries, and make sure he didn't have an infection. Pain meds were never allowed, not that it made a difference anymore; he didn't remember what it was like to not be in pain.

 

Jason wasn't sure why the Joker bothered; he was just going to kill him, wasn't he?

 

* * *

 

Jason blinked as the hood was removed, the room brighter than usual, candlelight aiding the worn out bulb. A homemade banner reading _Happy 16th Birthday Jason_ hung on the wall Jason’s wheelchair faced. A table was set up to Jason’s right, housing presents and the most morbid looking cake he had even seen. Joker and Harley Quinn stood in front of him, with pretty much Batman’s entire rogues gallery lining the walls.

 

“What’s with the face? Don't you like your party? I put it all together just for you, Jason. Sixteen is a very special year, after all.” Joker’s grin made Jason sick to his stomach.

 

Jason took a deep breath. This was gonna be bad.

 

“Now, who want’s to give the birthday boy his present first? Croc ol’ boy? No? How about you Harvey? C’mon, don't be shy. It’s only right, given your history.”

 

Two-Face stepped forward, Joker and Harley retreating to the background.

 

“Heads, I cut you free. Tails, I make you regret ever being born.”

 

The coin flipped in the air, falling straight back into Harvey's palm. “Today is not your lucky day, kid.”

 

Jason had never agreed with anything more.

 

* * *

 

Bruised and bloodied, his left eye swollen shut, with numerous new broken bones, Jason found himself, not for the first time, wishing for death. At least then he’d be free.

 

If it really was his birthday, that meant that he’d been the Joker's plaything for five months. Five months without being rescued by Batman. Five months living in a waking nightmare. Why hadn't the Joker killed him yet?

 

He felt his eyes began to droop, and welcomed unconsciousness. Anything to get away from his _birthday party_.

 

Jason almost bit his tongue off when he felt something rip the skin open on his cheek.

 

Joker stood in front of him, bloody crowbar in hand, shaking his head. “Now, now, Jason. Don't go passing out on us just yet. You've still got one more present left. And I saved the best for last.”

 

Joker stepped to the side, revealing Scarecrow.

 

Jason knew struggling was pointless, that it would only cause him more pain, but he refused to just sit there and take it. The needles from the syringes on Scarecrow’s hand pierced his skin, and it took everything Jason had not to scream. It burned so bad his eyes started to water.

 

Suddenly, the room he was in dissipated, and he was back in Crime Alley, the Joker's laugh echoing in his head.

 

Like a man possessed, he walked towards his old apartment. Or he tried to. It was so close, close enough that he could hear his mother’s screams. But he couldn't make his body move.

 

After what felt like an eternity, his mother emerged from the house, eyes empty. She walked right in front of Jason, before dropping to the ground. Jason knew she was dead, just like he had when he was ten and saw her lying motionless on the bathroom floor.

 

He was in his own personal hell, and powerless to escape it. 

 

* * *

 

Jason woke to the sound of footsteps. “Batman? Is that you?”

  
“Batman's not coming to save you, Jason.”

  
The hood was ripped from Jason's head. Jason couldn't see the Joker, so he had to be behind him.

  
“He'll come.”

  
  
“It's been six months now Jason. I think it's time to face facts—” Joker put his hands on Jason’s shoulders.

  
“Screw you.”

 

“That's the spirit. You're a real chip off the ol’ bat block. Not that it'll do you any good.” Joker put his hand on Jason’s back.

  
“Why won't you just kill me?”

 

“What? Oh, no, no, no, no. I'm not going to kill you, not yet anyway. You're my sidekick now. Imagine it! You and me, out on the street, starting fights, picking on the weak, a regular dynamic duo. Just like Bat's and that new kid of his.”

  
“No, he wouldn't.” Jason’s voice was barely more than a whisper. 

  
“You think?" Joker put a picture in front of Jason’s face. There was no mistaking that it was of Batman and a new Robin. “So this isn't Batman then? Huh, weird. The pointy ears are usually a dead giveaway.”

  
“No.” Jason’s voice was hollow, broken.

 

Joker put the picture back in his coat. “I didn't want to show you that photo. Really, I didn't. But, well, it was the only way for you to get closure.” He patted Jason shoulders, before walking in front of him.

  
“Now I know it hurts,” Joker pulled his crowbar out from behind his back. “but sometimes you've got to be cruel to be kind.” He hit Jason with the crowbar, dead in the chest, causing Jason to groan, the wheelchair rolling back into the wall.

 

Joker landed blow after blow, but Jason barely felt them. Batman had abandoned him. Batman had replaced him.

 

Before he knew it, tears were streaming down his cheeks, their salt aggravating the scrapes on his face.

 

When Joker left, he ordered Boles to cut Jason free and strung up from the ceiling.

 

* * *

 

“What do we have here then?”

 

Jason slowly came to, pulled back into consciousness by the Joker’s voice.

  
“Mm-hmm.” He struggled against his restraints. With the way he was bound, hands pulled over his head, it was impossible to keep his weight off his right ankle, recently re-broken courtesy of _Mister Crowbar._

 

Joker began to pace, a strange object hidden behind his back. “Wakey, wakey. What's wrong? You think I'm going to hurt you? Why? I'm not the bad one here. Oh, no, no, no, no. It's Batman. He's abandoned you. Thrown you away like an unwanted puppy.”

  
Joker got and his knees and put his hands put in front of him, drawing Jason’s attention to the branding iron he was holding. His voice was high pitched, like that of a seven-year-olds. “Can I have him, daddy? Oh please, please, please, please, please. I'll take real good care of him.”

  
Joker stands, his voice back to normal. “Anything to make you happy princess. Just make sure people know he's yours.” Joker snaps, and the rope holding Jason up gives, causing him to fall hard on his shoulder. “We don't want him to end up back here, do we?”

  
Joker’s voice regained its high pitch as Jason attempted to crawl away, with his hands still bound together, only one good leg. “No we don't daddy. I want to keep him forever.”

  
Joker came at him with the brand, grin splitting his face.

  
“No, please, Please, no, no—” Jason broke off into a scream, the pain in his cheek sharper than anything he’s ever felt before. The last thing he hears before he passes out is Joker laughing, a deep, horrible, cruel sound.

 

* * *

 

Jason laid on the floor, exactly as Joker had left him, his cheek on fire.

 

Joker had branded him like he was a piece of cattle, claimed Jason as his property. And Batman? Batman had done nothing to stop him, had practically handed him Jason on a silver platter.

 

* * *

 

Jason woke to the sound of Harley Quinn's voice. “You better not have died yet, Bird Brain. Mr. J won't be pleased.”

 

Jason tried not to flinch; he knew that Harley was just as much a victim of the Joker as he was, but that didn't mean that she wasn't dangerous, that she wouldn't beat him within an inch of his life and laugh about it. Still, he couldn't help but empathize with her; he knew what it was like to live with an abuser.

 

Something poked him the chest, aggravating his broken ribs. He let out a pained sound.

 

Harley let out a breath of relief. “Boy’s, prep the patient.”

 

Two large men wearing clown mask lifted Jason from the ground and set him in an uncomfortable chair, metal cuffs locking his hands and feet in place. Once secured, they proceeded to hook him up to an electroshock machine, engraved with the Arkham logo.

 

Harley had ditched her usual outfit for a white lab coat. She had a clipboard in hand, a pen tucked behind her ear. Take away the face paint, manic grin, and pigtails, and she could pass for an actual doctor. It was a reminder of who she used to be, before the Joker got his hands on her.

 

“Now, who’s the bad guy? B-Man or Mr. J?”

 

The brand on Jason’s cheek, now fully healed, burned with phantom pain. “Joker.”

 

“Wrong answer.”

 

A current of electricity shot through his body, causing his muscles to seize.

 

“Now, let's try that again.”

 

* * *

 

Sometime around Harley’s sixth visit, Jason became numb, inside and out. He was tired of fighting, tired of being punished, tired of deluding himself into thinking he would leave Arkham alive.  

 

He gave in, told Harley what she wanted to hear, did what he was told to do. After a month, it stopped feeling weird when he called the Joker sir.

 

* * *

 

For the first time since his capture, Jason wasn't tied up. It wasn't necessary. The Joker had broken him.

  
Joker stood behind a camera, pointed directly at Jason. “Have you got something to tell the nice man Jason?”

  
  
“My name is Jason Todd.”

  
“Who do you hate?”

  
Jason didn't even have to think about his answer. “Batman.”

  
  
“Excellent. Of course you do. Did you hear that Bats? Kid's not yours anymore. He's mine. Mine, mine, mine, to do with as I wish.”

 

Jason didn't even blink at the Joker's statement. It was nothing knew to him. The Joker had made a habit of referring to Jason as his property.

  
Joker made his way towards Jason, sliding his hand over his shoulders. “Hey, I never asked. What's the big secret? Who is the big bad Bat? His name. Tell me.”

  
“Of course sir. It's-” There was a loud bang, and suddenly Jason was lying on his back, blood seeping from his abdomen.

  
Joker’s voice was fuzzy, like Jason was underwater. He could barely keep his eyes open. “Never could stand a tattletale. That's why I like to work alone. No one to spoil the punchline. You should try it sometime. After all, you've seen what happens when you drag your friends into this crazy little game of ours.”

 

As Jason’s vision darkened, he hoped that this was the end.

 

* * *

 

Jason came to on a gurney, the throbbing in his gut excruciating. A doctor was standing over him, doing something to his wound. His abdomen flared in pain, and he slipped back into unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

The next time he regained consciousness, he was on the floor, lying in a pool of his own blood.

 

* * *

 

Joker didn't visit Jason during his recovery. Jason wasn't sure how to feel about that.

 

* * *

 

Jason jumped when a giant vine crashed into the room. During his time at Arkham, Jason had learned to expect the unexpected; it came with the territory of being at the Joker's mercy. But this was just plain weird.

 

Upon closer inspection, Jason noticed that the vine had created a hole just big enough for him to fit through. Before he knew it, he was outside, breathing in the first breath of fresh air he’d had in over a year.

 

He was free, after all this time. He just had to get off Arkham Island.


	2. Trauma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long. I had an existential crisis about turning 18, but since my birthday was yesterday, I found it easier to relax and write. Sorry the chapter is so short after so long, but that's just how the story flow went. The next/final three chapters will be closer in length to the first one. And hopefully won't take me six months to write.

Considering that a giant vine had just punched through one of the walls of his makeshift prison, Jason wasn't surprised to find that Arkham Island was overrun with plant life. Poison Ivy must be loose. And pissed, if the seismic activity rocking the island was anything to go by.

 

Jason ran, careful not to aggravate any of the giant pods scattered through the island. Knowing Ivy, their spores were most likely deadly. He’d made it to Arkham East before he realized that he currently had no way off the island, caught up as he was in putting as much distance between himself and the abandoned wing of Arkham the Joker had held him prisoner in as possible.

 

Attempting to swim to shore would be suicide. The bridge was too long to walk, especially for someone in Jason's condition. Contacting Batman wasn't an option. He wasn't sure where he stood with Bruce, not after everything that had happened. Asking a member of the Arkham Staff for help was also out of the question—there was no telling who was on the Joker's payroll.

 

He was on his own; his only option to get to higher ground, scan his environment, and formulate a plan. Jason climbed to the top of the nearest Guard Tower and assessed the situation.

 

The island was practically destroyed. In addition to Ivy’s plants, chattering teeth, batarangs, and dead bodies littered the ground. Something big was going on, something involving Joker and Batman.

 

Jason chest constricted. He had to get out of here, and fast. Before he was dragged back into the middle of their sick game.

 

Jason descended from the tower as quickly as he could in his current state and made his way over to the closest body. He didn’t like the idea of desecrating a body—he wasn’t the Joker after all—but he hadn’t been left with much of a choice. With a sigh, he searched the body. After he found what he was looking for, he stripped the body of it’s clothes. As quickly as he could, he maneuvered himself out of his damage Robin costume and slipped on the Arkham Security uniform. Ditching his Robin uniform into the bay, Jason made his way to the Arkham Employ Parking Garage, the keychain he had found secure in hand.

 

The underground complex was a considerable distance away, much further than was desirable considering the shape Jason was in. With every step he took, his body became heavier. By the time he reached the correct car, he was exhausted.

 

He stifled a yawn as he slid into the driver's seat. He was almost home free. He just had to wait for the guards to change shifts and slip out with the crowd.

 

* * *

 

Jason woke to the rumbling of car engines. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, had done his best to stay awake, focused, and alert, but the need to rest had grown too strong.

 

Surveying his surroundings, he found that the moment he was waiting for had arrived. Rolling his muscles to rid himself of any post-nap grogginess, Jason started the car. He joined the line of cars waiting for access to the bridge and slowly made his way towards freedom.

 

* * *

 

Having racked up an impressive amount of injuries during his time at Arkham, Jason knew that his first priority was getting medical attention. His first instinct told him to go to Dr. Thompkins clinic. He ignored it. Whatever relationship he had with her, it was nothing compared to the one she had with Bruce. And since Jason didn’t know where he exactly he stood with Bruce at the moment, he couldn’t risk her calling him, couldn’t risk being forced to face him yet.

  


Instead, he headed to a free clinic in Park Row he had frequented as a child. It wasn’t nearly as nice as Dr. Thompkins clinic, but it would do. It had to.

 

Located on the edge of Crime Alley and sandwiched between two mob fronts, Park Row Medical Center received most of its patronage from henchmen, gang members, and mobsters. Needless to say, it was a _no question asked_ kind of place. So Jason wasn’t all that surprised when no one batted an eye when he entered the lobby, regardless of the fact that he had to have looked like he had just crawled out of hell.

 

He checked in with the receptionist and took a seat in the corner, his back to the wall, eyes on the door.

 

* * *

 

A couple of hours later, Jason was finally called back. After a board looking nurse checked his preliminaries, she led him to a small room and gestured for him to take a seat on the examination table.

 

“Dr. Morris will be with you shortly.” The door slammed shut behind her.

 

Jason enjoyed the peace and quiet while he waited. At least, he did, until he heard shouting and signs of a struggle. A scream pierced the air, and then everything went silent.

 

A few minutes later, a middle-aged woman wearing a blood splatter doctor's coat entered the room.

 

“Hi. Sorry for the wait. Dr. Morris can't see you right now. He just got his face cut off and eaten by some guy calling himself the Flamingo or something. I told him that it was a bad idea to try and steal from someone like Falcone, but did he listen?” She shook her head sadly. “Anyway, I'm Dr. Mckenzie, and I’ll be examining you instead. Now, young man, do you mind giving me your name?  So I don’t have to keep calling you young man. ”

 

“Jason.”

 

“Okay Jason,” she paused, giving him a once over, “considering your appearance, I have to ask you some questions you may not like being asked. I'm just following procedure, okay?” She took a deep breath. “Do I need to check for signs of sexual assault or treat any injuries obtained during sexual assault?”

 

Jason shook his head. For all the horrible things the Joker had done to him, at least he had never done that.

 

“Are you currently on or have done any drugs in the past forty-eight hours?”

 

“No.”

 

“Are you sure? I don’t care if you have. I just need to know because it can affect treatment.”

 

“I’m sure.” And Jason was. The Joker, Harley Quinn, or Boles hadn’t drug him in months.

 

“Good. Now with that out of the way we can begin the examination.”

 

She put on latex gloves before approaching Jason. “What do you need me to look at?”

 

Jason thought it would probably be easier to list the things he didn’t need her to look at. “Let’s see… I was shot in the abdomen… well, I don’t exactly know when per say, but it was recent. And…”

 

* * *

 

As the doctor inspected him, Jason was surprised to find that a couple of missing teeth and an admittedly large handful of scars was the only permanent damage. It made sense in a way. Joker had always taken special care to make sure Jason healed right, had even brought him doctors. But hearing that he should make a full recovery, at least physically, seemed too good to be true.

 

So did the bottle of water Dr. Makenzie handed him at the end of her examination. Jason started gulping it down so quickly he almost choked.

 

“Woah. Whoa. Slow down. Drink it too fast and you’ll make yourself sick.” She relaxed as Jason forced himself to drink slower. “You’re main problem at this point is that you’re severely dehydrated and underfed. When’s the last time you had a meal?”

 

“I don’t remember.”

 

“Then I think it’s safe to say we need to start you on the IV.” Jason couldn’t help but tense. He had hoped to never even see an IV ever again, much less use one. “Hopefully by a week we can have you back on small portions of solid food.”

 

Dr. Mackenzie beckoned for Jason to follow her. “We have a room you can stay in till you’re strong enough to leave.”

 

* * *

 

After three days, Jason stopped feeling the pain of thirst and hunger. After a week, Jason had regained enough of his strength to leave the clinic. After two weeks, Jason had found a place to live. After three weeks Jason was able to eat normally again. After a month, Jason had regained most of his lost muscle mass. After five weeks, Jason was ready to find answers.

 

* * *

 

While not the easiest, the quickest way to find out what had happened during the sixteen months Jason had been imprisoned was to break into the Batcave and hack the Batcomputer. Hopefully, Bruce hadn’t upgraded his security during those sixteen months. Who was Jason kidding? Bruce’s middle name might as well have been ‘paranoid bastard.’ Of course he upgraded his security.

 

Not that it would matter. Jason was determined. And nothing could stop Jason when he was determined.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t hard to get past Bruce’s security, not when you had Jason’s training. Some hacking here, some gymnastics there, with some brute force sprinkled in, and you had the perfect recipe for breaking into the Batcave.

 

It was relatively early in the night, at least to a Bat, which meant that Jason would have plenty of time to get what he needed and leave before Bruce got back.

 

All he needed to do was hack into the Batcomputer and copy the database onto a flash drive. It should have been simple. But as Jason was making his way over to the Batcomputer, he saw the display case.

 

His spare Robin costume was strung up, a plaque reading _a good soldier_ sitting below it. _A_ _good soldier. A good soldier._ Is that all he was to Bruce? Some expendable piece in Batman’s war?

 

Hold back tears, Jason forced himself to move away from the case. He was here on a mission, and he wouldn’t let himself get compromised. Not when he was so close to completing his goal.

 

Shaking it off as best he could, he finished making his way to the Batcomputer. A few strokes of keys, and he was in.

 

* * *

 

Jason spent the rest of the night in the house he was squatting in going over the data on the laptop he had ‘borrowed’ from one of the local drug dealers.

 

He almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Joker had been telling the truth. Batman really had replaced him. But that was nothing compared to what Jason had found out next.

 

He had known about being replaced. He just hadn’t wanted to accept it. But the news about Barbara completely blindsided him. Barbara, nice, kind, amazing, Barbara had been shot. And paralyzed. By Joker. Hadn’t torturing him been enough? Why did he have to hurt her too?

 

* * *

 

Three days later, on Jason’s seventeenth birthday, he realized that he wanted to kill Batman. All he needed was a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Rise of the Arkham Knight.


	3. Rise of the Arkham Knight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. Sorry again for how long it took me to update. The last couple of months of my Senior year were brutal. But now that I'm graduation, and not starting college until the spring semester, I'm hoping to have the next chapter done in a week or so. In this chapter, trigger warnings for unhealthy coping mechanisms, brief suicidal thought, one brief scene non-explicit scene of attempted rape, and the death of a minor character who really, really deserves it.

Jason couldn’t get the words _a good soldier_ out of his head. It made sense, in a sick sort of way. Most of his training had been military. Batman always talked about the War on Crime.

 

It was all so clear to Jason now. He had been a child soldier. And he was going to use all the skills he had acquired during that time to bring Batman’s downfall.

 

It was only fitting that Jason turn it into a military operation. If Batman wanted a war, Jason would give him one. He would occupy Gotham, take it back from the Bat.

 

He’d need an army, supplies, an airtight plan, and, most importantly, money. Jason had none of that, but he could get it. It would just take time.

 

First thing first, he needed a new costume, a new alter ego. There was a reason Cobblepot went by Penguin, a reason why Sionis wore that that stupid mask. It inspired fear, just as much, if not more, than Batman’s name or cape and cowl.

 

His new suit would have to intimidate and garner respect—pretty much the exact opposite of what he wore as Robin. He’d need body armor in all the right places to play up his muscles, a mask to conceal his face, a voice modular to make his voice sound robotic and unearthly.

 

Jason being sketching his design. It was good, scary, but it was missing something. Then the idea came to him. He’d steal Batman’s stupid pointy ears and wear the Arkham Crest like Batman wore the Bat Symbol. He’d been the Arkham Knight to Batman’s Dark Knight. It was perfect—just enough to have Batman wondering just who was under the suit, but not enough to actually clue Batman into his identity; he didn’t want Batman to know it was him, not until the moments before he died.

 

He deserved to suffer, like Jason suffered. He deserved to feel the same fear Jason had, the same uncertainty of how he would be hurt next that Jason had felt, the same feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was going to die that Jason had felt.

 

And Jason knew just the way to make him feel that. According to the Batcomputer, Crane had was likely dead—a casualty of the incident at the Asylum. But Batman has been wrong before. If Crane was still alive, Jason would find him. But first, he needed to create an army—his army.

 

He needed to be able to house, feed, and train them. To do that, he would need money. And he knew the perfect place from which to acquire it: Wayne Enterprise. After all, Jason enjoyed the irony of training recruits to kill the Bat on his own dime.

 

* * *

 

The first purchase Jason made with the money he stole from Wayne Enterprise (and Lex Corp, Goth Corp, and Queen Industries for good measure) was a compound in Venezuela. It fit his needs perfectly, with its five buildings that acclimated to over fifty thousand square feet, nearby barracks could hold up to two-thousand people, and thirty-four surrounding acres of forest.

 

The second was all necessary furnishings for the compound. The barracks, while better than others Jason had seen, needed an upgrade in the form of higher quality mattresses and sheets.

 

The third was the best state-of-the-art military equipment and weapons money could buy. And what money couldn’t buy, he made himself; Lucius had taught him well.

 

Finally, after acquiring all the food necessary to feed hundreds of people for a little over a month, with plans to acquire more when needed, he was ready to gather recruits.

 

* * *

 

Jason first batch of recruits proved fruitful. He found three potential lieutenants, the most promising being Stephen Archer, a mercenary who had a history of turning down governments contracts in favor of taking jobs from rape and abuse victims; Jason felt confident that Archer would eventually be his second in command.

 

The second and third batches yielded five more potential lieutenants, fifteen potential sergeants, twenty-one medics, and seven potential candidates for specialized combat training.

 

The fourth batch of recruits weren’t really recruits so much as tech support. His drones needed to be coded, so he got the best black hats in the business. They weren’t as good as Barbara, nobody was as good as Barbara—except Cyborg—but they were still pretty damn good. Lucius level good.

 

Jason selected eight more batches of recruits over the next month and acquired twelve more lieutenants, thirty-five more sergeants, over two hundred more medics, and forty-three more candidates for specialized combat training.

 

After spending a little over two months of recruiting, Jason had over a thousand soldiers, twenty lieutenants, fifty sergeants, almost three hundred medics, and fifty candidates for specialized combat training. He felt confident in his numbers. Not even Batman could face this many soldiers and win, not when Jason could give them insight into Batman’s mind.

 

Scarecrow was still MIA, but that was fine. Jason could take on the Bat without him. It wouldn’t be as satisfying, but it would get the job done.

 

* * *

 

Now that he had an impressive army, Jason focused on training—his and his armies. He had every aspect of the Bat down, would have no problem training his army to exploit all his secrets. But he wanted—needed—more than inside knowledge. He may have been Robin, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t room for improvement. Like Batman has always told him, there was always room for improvement, always something new you could learn. And he was ready to learn.

 

Lady Shiva was the perfect candidate for a teacher. Not only was she a high up member of the League of Assassins, she was also one of the only people Batman had not truly bested in combat. If he was lucky, she would agree to train him. If he was extremely lucky, she might even agree to train the recruits he was hoping to turn into a small elite combat force.

 

Regardless of her answer, he’d need to study under others; there was no such thing as too much training, too much learning, too much improving. But if she agreed, she would without a doubt be the most important—at least when it came to combat.

 

Jason knew that she would be hard to find—all members of the League were—and would require a steep price for her services, but Jason was prepared.

 

* * *

 

It took Jason a little over a month to find Shiva. During that time, he met some interesting people, some of which he offered positions in his Militia. His favorite encounter had come in Moscow—a teenage girl about the same age as him, maybe slightly older, who Jason had seen take down five armed traffickers in seconds. She hadn’t said a word to Jason, not even when they took down the trafficking ring together. It had felt good, had almost been enough to stop the Joker’s laughter from repeating over and over in his head.

 

But he was still there, whenever Jason closed his eyes, or looked in the mirror, or let his guard down. The only way he would get rid of him, get rid of all his pain, was by killing the man who had let him become Joker’s plaything. And Shiva would help him accomplish this. At least, he hoped she would.

 

He finally caught up to her in Krasnoyarsk, Russia. She let him approach her that night, on a rooftop near the edge of town. He took how easily she allowed him to find her as a good sign.

 

She didn’t look up as he approached her, “You’re a long way from home, little bird.”

 

Jason flinched. He had known she would recognize him, had come in civilian clothes specifically so she would. Still, the reference—to Gotham, to Bruce, to his time as Robin—hurt.

 

Jason couldn’t help the anger in his voice. “I’m not Robin, not anymore. But you already knew that.”

 

Shiva turned to him, a half smile on her face. “Of course. The League knows everything pertaining to the Dark Knight Detective.”

 

Her face twisted on the last three words. Jason was intrigued. He’d never seen a member of the League look so visibly disgusted mentioning the man their master wanted to succeed him. “You don’t share Ra’s and Talia’s high opinion of Batman.”

 

“No. And I’m sure you don’t either, now that he has failed you. But Batman isn’t the reason you’re here.”

 

“He is actually. I’m going to kill him. And I figured some extra training wouldn’t hurt.” His words were casual, but his heart pounded, sure he would be rejected.

 

“My Master wouldn’t approve.” Her words were a statement, not an objection.

 

“Ra’s doesn’t have to know. Neither does Talia.”

 

She smiled, but it didn’t make her face look any kinder.  “And what are you prepared to pay?”

 

“Anything,” Jason said, and meant it.

 

She looked thoughtful. “I’ll think about it.” She vanished into the night. Jason didn’t bother trying to follow. If she accepted his proposition, she would find him.

 

* * *

 

A week later, after Jason had returned to Venezuela, Shiva appeared in his room.

 

“So you’ve decided.” His words weren't a question.

 

Shiva nodded. “Yes.”

 

“You’re going to train me the fight?”

 

“No.” Jason wondered why she had even come. Her dismissal would have been refusal enough. “You already know how to fight. I’m going to train you to kill.”

 

“And what do I owe you?” Jason already knew what she would say before the words left his mouth. According to the Batcomputer, she required a fight to the death in exchange for training under her. No one had ever bested her. Jason doubted he would break that pattern; she was the best fighter in the world, after all. But if that was the price he had to pay to be rid of Batman and Joker, to be rid of the pain and anger and sadness and hatred and nightmares, he would pay it gladly.

 

But Shiva’s answer surprised him. “All I want is Batman dead. And fifty million dollars.”

 

The bounty Joker—dressed up as Black Mask—had put up so many years ago. Jason could do that.

 

He might as well push his luck while it was good. “And what would it cost for you train a small portion of my army as well?”

 

“How many?”

 

Jason didn’t want to get his hopes up. She would most likely refuse. “Fifty, all with a background in martial arts.”

 

She paused for a moment, considering. “Double the money.”

 

Jason couldn’t believe how well this had turned out. He wondered why Shiva wanted Batman dead, especially when it went against Ra’s and Talia’s wishes. But he didn’t dare push his luck again. He didn’t want Shiva to reconsider out of anger.

 

“So when do we start?”

 

“Now.”

 

* * *

 

After Shiva, Jason found Deathstroke. He needed a contingency plan, should anything happen that left him unable to complete his mission. Deathstroke was the obvious choice; his last encounter with the Bat has been a close call, one of the closest Batman had ever had.

 

With Jason’s knowledge and army, he didn’t doubt that—should the need arise—Slade could finish what he started.

 

* * *

 

A few months over a year after Jason had escaped from Arkham, he was ready to enact his plan. He would have preferred to have brought in Crane—have made Batman truly suffering—but he wanted Batman dead, and wasn’t going to wait any longer. Especially not for someone who may not even be alive.

 

He could make up for Crane’s absence. He had a supplement. It wouldn’t be quite as satisfying, but it shouldn’t still _hurt_ him.

 

He would make Batman do the unthinkable, make him go against everything he stood for. He would make Batman take a life, the life of the Joker, before Jason ended his.

 

It was perfect, poetic justice. Jason couldn’t wait to administer it. And he would, soon. With all the preparations Jason made, nothing could go wrong.

 

* * *

 

The next day, right after Jason had gotten out of the shower, something went wrong.

 

He exited his bathroom in nothing more than a towel, not expecting his second in command to be standing in his quarters.

 

Archer stared, eyes darting from the bags underneath his eye to the brand on his cheek to the scares that littered his entire body.

 

Jason had meant to lock the door—he had been sure he had locked the door. But I’m front of him stood proof that he hadn’t. His throat was constricting, his heart was pounding. He knew he would have nightmares tonight, if he was even able to fall asleep. How could he have been so careless as to leave himself so vulnerable and exposed? He knew it was irrational, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what would have happened if it had been Batman or Joker that had found him like this and not his most trusted lieutenant.

 

Jason squared his shoulders, quelling his panic. It wasn’t Joker. It wasn’t Batman. It was Stephen Archer, second in command to his army and the closest thing Jason had resembling a friend since Arkham.

 

“Lieutenant? I assume this is important?”

 

Archer looked like he was coming out of a daze. It took him a moment to respond. “Sir. Something's happening in Gotham, sometimes that you need to look at.”

 

Jason nodded. “I'll meet you in the Communications Room in five.”

 

Archer seemed grateful to be dismissed. He all but ran out of Jason’s quarters.

 

Jason shut the door behind him and dressed, opting out of the sweats he had sat out on his bed for his Arkham Knight suit.

 

He waited for his heartbeat to return to normal before heading to the Communications Room.

 

* * *

 

Jason couldn’t believe his luck. Scratch that—Jason could believe his luck. After all, his life had been such a series of unfortunate events that Lemony Snicket could have written a book about it.

 

Still, it wasn’t fair. He had been so close to achieving what he had been working towards for over a year, and the stupid mayor had to go and ruin it by turning part of Gotham into a prison. What had the city council been on when they allowed this? Anyone with half a brain would know that this so-called Arkham City was a bad idea.

 

Jason groaned. This wasn’t the end of the world, he reasoned. He could still make things work. It would just take a lot more effort.

 

He would need to break into Arkham City, hack their network. It would be best to go alone. But Joker was being held there, and as unlikely as it was that he would run into him, he wanted backup. For peace of mind.

 

“Archer. Meet me outside in an hour. We’re going to Gotham.”

 

* * *

 

They arrived in Gotham in around three in the morning—the perfect time for infiltration. Jason had made sure to land the plane—so small there was barely enough room for two people—in the outskirts of Coventry, far enough away from the prison to avoid suspicion, but close enough that they wouldn’t be tired by the time they arrived at their destination.

 

They blended in with Gotham’s nightlife as made they made their way to Pioneer Bridge, clothing inconspicuous and Jason’s brand hidden behind a large bandage.

 

Pioneer Bridge was empty, a sight he had never seen before. But then again, last time he saw Pioneer Bridge, it lead to more than just the world's weirdest prison. With a vague motion for Archer to follow him, Jason gripped the south pillar and made his way to the underside of the bridge. From there, he was able to maneuver his way to the north end of the bridge, pausing only when Archer started to fall behind.

 

Once they were on the correct side, Jason guestered for Archer to stay put and scaled the bridge carefully, searching for an opportunity to snatch one of the guards access cards.

 

About forty minutes later, he finally found an isolated guard to pickpocket. With great care not to alert the guard or be caught on camera, he made his way back to Archer.

 

* * *

 

With the access card, breaking into the secured areas of Arkham City was child’s play. Finding the control room took no time at all, as did incapacitating the guard in such a way that would make them think they had just fallen asleep on the job.

 

Jason made his way to the security console and installed a device that would allow him to monitor all activity and communications in Arkham City.

 

“And, done.” Jason moved to leave, motioning for Archer to follow—quick exits were the key to remaining undetected. But as he made his way to the door, one of the screens caught his eye.

 

In one of the many prisoner orientation rooms, a guard had one of the inmates cornered. From the look in her eyes—a look he knew all too well growing up in crime alley—Jason knew what was about to happen to her.

 

Before he knew what he was doing, he was running. It wasn’t hard to find the room, not with how loud the woman was screaming. Jason had a knife out the second he opened the door.

 

He had got there just in time. The guard was attempting to taking off her clothes, but hadn’t gotten very far.

 

It wasn’t necessary to stab the guard in the genitals before he slit his throat. It definitely wasn’t the most effective way of neutralizing him—a broken neck would have sufficed. But it was the most satisfying. And the guy deserved it; all rapists—or wanna be rapist—deserved a horrible death.

 

“Thank you,” the girl mumbled. She fixed her clothes before kicking the guard's corpse.

 

“No problem.” Jason picked up the body. He paused, wanting to help her, but not wanting to make her uncomfortable. “If you want I can get you out of here. Out of Gotham too, if you need.”

 

She looked conflicted. Jason didn’t blame her. He’d be questioning his intentions too, if he were in her shoes. Finally, she nodded, and followed him out of the room.

 

They met Archer back in the control room. Jason motioned to the exit with his head. “Come on, let’s get rid of this and head back. We’ve got what we need.”

 

Archer glanced at the woman trailing behind Jason “What about her?”

 

“She’s coming with us.”

 

* * *

 

Even though Jason has more than enough soldiers, he was glad when the woman from Arkham City decided to join his cause. She was like him—a child of Crime Alley whose life had been anything but easy. Maybe it was selfish, but Jason enjoyed having someone he could relate to; someone who really knew the horrors of Gotham.

 

* * *

 

Jason lost it when—just after he had figured out a way to work around the whole part-of-Gotham-is-a-prison-now problem—he learned that Bruce Wayne had been arrested, that Batman was in Arkham City. He was so, so close. He was beyond tired of setbacks. He just wanted this to be over, wanted to stop the pain and sadness and anger, wanted to be able to move on. Why couldn’t this be over?

 

* * *

 

After he calmed down, Jason went back to the communications room. He needed to assure soldiers on duty that had witnessed his meltdown that it was an isolated incident, that it wouldn’t happen again. And it wouldn’t. He’d just been on edge, that was all, from all the times he’d heard Joker’s voice broadcasted in the past two months.

 

* * *

 

Jason couldn’t believe it. The Joker was dead. The Joker was actually dead.

 

Jason should have felt like a weight was life from his shoulders, but it didn’t. He still hurt, still felt angry and hollow inside, still had nightmares, still heard his laughter echoing in his head.

 

Joker was dead, and Jason wasn’t free. Now, more than ever, he was sure that killing Batman would be the only thing that would give him peace.

 

* * *

 

Scarecrow resurfacing was the best news that Jason had heard in a long damn time. He wasted no time in paying his penthouse in Chinatown a visit.

 

It was heavily guarded, but sheer numbers was no match for skill. He finished off the final guard, before kicking down the door. Scarecrow looked different, his face a lot more gruesome than the last time Jason saw him.

 

“You should invest in better guards, Crane.”

 

Scarecrow did not look pleased with his presence. “And you should invest in some manners… Who are you? Another pretender to the cowl?”

 

“Call me the Arkham Knight.”

 

Scarecrow chuckled. “Another child of the asylum set free. Tell me, what tortured soul cowers behind that mask?”

 

Jason resisted the urge to argue that he didn’t cower. If he wanted Scarecrow’s help, he needed to be placating. “It doesn’t matter who I am. I’m here because we want the same thing. Batman dead.”

 

Scarecrow scoffed. “You made short work of my guards, but Batman is a very different proposition. One for which I am fully prepared.”

 

Jason rolled his eyes under the mask. No one was ever fully prepared for Batman. Not unless you knew all his secrets, and Jason knew for a fact that Scarecrow didn’t. “Those ‘guards’ I killed? I could replace them with an army, an army trained in his methods.”

 

Scarecrow looked intrigued. “Trained by whom?”

 

“Me.”

 

Jason thought he saw Scarecrow roll his eyes. “And what would you know about Batman?”

 

Jason couldn’t tell the truth—at least, not the whole truth—so he told Scarecrow the one thing he wouldn’t be able to ignore. “His fears.”

 

Scarecrow responded just as Jason had predicted. “Very well. You have my attention, Arkham Knight.”

 

Jason almost smiled. He had Scarecrow hooked, and now he just had to reel him in.

 

“Good. Before we discuss anything further, we need to talk about payment.”

 

Jason thought he saw Scarecrow raise an eyebrow. His face was so damaged it was hard to tell. “Payment?”

 

“Armies aren’t free.” Jason appreciated how he managed to make the words come out patronizing, despite his voice modulator.

 

“And how much is yours worth?” Scarecrow inquired.

 

“Three Billion.” That was the sum of what he had promised his soldiers, and he would make sure they got what they were owed.

 

“Three billion is a significant investment.” Scarecrow sounded skeptical.

 

Jason couldn’t argue with that, so he didn’t. Instead, he said, “People are willing to pay.”

 

“And what exactly would we be getting for our money?” Scarecrow still sounded skeptical.

 

“Tanks, drones, a highly trained infantry.” Jason left off the part about intimate knowledge from Batman’s former partner. That was none of Scarecrow’s business.

 

Scarecrow’s eyes widened. “You think you can just bring tanks into Gotham?”

 

Jason didn’t think it. He knew it. “We hold the city ransom. We create panic. Then chaos.”

 

Scarecrow looked impressed. “A distraction.”

 

One that would ensure no innocent casualties.

 

“As they run scared, we emerge, take over his habitat. Every rooftop, road, and back alley. We draw him out of the shadows and chip away till he has nowhere left to hide and no one left to hide behind.” No Oracle or Nightwing or Alfred or Lucius or _Robin_  to hide behind.

 

It was quiet for a moment. Scarecrow looked thoughtful.  “If you want him dead, why come to me? You seem… capable.”

 

Jason’s composure slipped, just for a moment. But it was long enough to give away more than he would have liked. “He needs to suffer. I suffered. So he will too.”

 

Scarecrow smiled, and the look in his eyes made Jason’s skin crawl. “So, it’s personal.” He seemed far to excited about that. “Well, there are many in this city with a gift for causing harm.”

 

Jason shook his head. “Not that kind of pain. The real kind.”

 

“Ah. You want him afraid.”

 

That was an understatement.

 

“I’ve seen what your toxin does.” He’d experienced what Scarecrow’s toxin does. “I want that.” He wanted Batman to experience that.

 

“You’re well informed about all of us, Arkham Knight. But you’re wrong about something. I don’t want Batman dead. I want him unmade.”

 

“He’s better of dead,” Jason snapped.

 

It was Scarecrow’s turn to sound patronizing. “Kill him, and you martyr him, you make him a legend. But break him, humiliate him, terrify him and hold him up for all the world to see. Then he is nothing but a man.”

 

Jason didn’t bother arguing with him. “Look, you can do what you want, Crane. But when you’re done, I will kill him.”

 

“Very well. But know this: it will be an act of mercy when you do.”

 

It wouldn’t. Jason wouldn’t let it be.

 

* * *

 

Jason revised his plans to account for Crane. His inclusion was almost a perfect fit. The only problem was the Cloudburst—specifically how long it was taking that rich asshole Simon Stagg to make it.

 

Jason was tired of waiting, but he had no other option. Batman needed to suffer the way he had, and Scarecrow was the only person who could make that happen.

 

* * *

 

Eight months later, the Cloudburst was finally ready. With almost all the pieces in place, all that was left was convincing Gotham’s most notorious criminals to back his and Scarecrow’s plan.

 

That was why Jason was positioned on a rooftop in Bristol, duffel bag in hand by his feet, his second and third in command at his back.

 

For his perch, he could hear Gotham’s worst—specifically Cobblepot and Dent—squabbling amongst themselves

 

“Keep that smoke out of my face little man,” Dent growled.

 

Cobblepots voice was patronizing. “What’s the matter Harv? The burning smell bring back some bad memories?”

 

Harley groaned. “You’re a real couple ’o bozos, you know that!”

 

“What do you expect from those so intellectually challenged?” Nygma added, his words as condescending as always

 

“Men,” Ivy made the word sound like a slur.

 

The door slammed. “Enough,” Scarecrow commanded.

 

His third—Ciara Reid, the woman he rescued in Arkham City—sighed. “What are we still doing on the roof? All of our _esteemed guests_ have arrived. Shouldn't we head inside now?”

 

She always spoke he mind. Jason liked that about her—in fact, it was the main reasons she had been promoted so fast.

 

“Not yet.” Not till the perfect moment.

 

“Well well! ’bout time you showed ya face.” It was Cobblepot who spoke.

 

“Yeah.” Harley sounded like she was close to laughing, probably due to Scarecrow's misfortune. “What’s left of it.”

 

Dent’s voice was gruff. “What’s the deal, Crane? Why are we here?

 

“Because you share something. A fear that strikes at you from the shadows. Hunts you. Keeps you afraid in the dark.”

 

Cobblepot didn’t seem to appreciate Scarecrow’s answer. “Yeah yeah. We all fear Batman. Tell us something we don’t know.”

 

“Like how we kill him,” Dent added.

 

Jason took that as his que and made his way to the portion of the roof made of glass, stopping when the table his and Scarecrow’s guest were sitting at was directly below him. He lept into the air, smashing down hard on the glass and landing in the center of the table. Everyone startled, except for Scarecrow.

 

Jason faintly heard Archer whistle and say, “He sure does know how to make an entrance.”

 

Jason hopped off the table and went to stand behind Scarecrow.

 

No one spoke for a while—long enough for his second and third to climb down from the roof, enter through the door, and position themselves behind him. Predictably, it was Cobblepot who broke the silence; Jason was surprised he managed to go as long as he did without talking—the guy loved the sound of his own voice.

 

“And just who is this?”

 

“The man who’s going to kill the Bat.” Scarecrow’s voice left no room for argument, but that didn’t stop Cobblepot from trying.

 

“And I'm the bloody tooth fairy.”

 

“I thought you’d have your doubts.” Jason took a step towards Cobblepot. “So I brought… a taste of my capabilities.”

 

Jason turned to his right and motioned for Archer to hand him the duffel. Cobblepot’s eyes zeroed in on it as Jason careless tosses it on the table.

 

Cobblepot reached for it, but Dent got to it first. His face went red with anger as Dent took his sweet time opening the duffel. Dent paled upon seeing it’s contents, shoving it away with little more than a glance.

 

Harley, Ivy, Cobblepot, and Nygma, all reached for the duffel at once. Ivy restrained the others with vines and gave the bag’s contents a disinstred look. Then, she called back her plants and passed the duffel to Harley.

 

Harley was not nearly as unaffected. “Kenny!” She screech, shooting Jason a murderous glare. “How dare you! Only I’m aloud to kill these bozos.” She paused, briefly glancing to Ivy. “Well, only me and Pamey.” The venom was back in her voice when she continued. “But definitely not you.”

 

Cobblepot grabbed the duffel from her and glared at it’s contents. “What the bloody hell is this?”

 

“The most trusted members of each of your organizations. Well, their heads anyway.”

 

The room fell silent, till Nygma reached for the bag and scoffed. “I personally could have severed the heads with a much greater degree of precision, but not everyone can possess my intellect and skill.”

 

Jason couldn’t help rolling his eyes; couldn’t that guy go five minutes without declaring how much better that you he was?

 

“Of course Eddie,” Scarecrow said, something akin to fondness in his voice. “Now, can we get back to what we were discussing, before my associate joined us? Unless, of course, you would rather keep on questioning his skills?”

There were no objections, so Scarecrow continued on.

 

“Like I said, the Arkham Knight is going to kill the Bat.”

 

“What does that have to do with us?” Dent questioned.

 

“I’m glad you asked…”

 

* * *

 

The meeting was going fairly well. Dent and Cobblepot we’re still at each other's throats, still not of a mind to abide by the ceasefire, but that would change soon enough.

 

He tuned Scarecrow out and focused on the man who killed his father. Dent was quick to notice.

 

Maybe it was the helmet. Or the mechanical voice. Or the intensity of his stare. Whatever the cause, Two Face was visibly uncomfortable under his—under the Arkham Knight's—undivided attention.

  
  
“What?” He demanded. His voice gruff, angry—Two-Face to the core.

  
  
Jason shifted from his position perched on the wall and moved closer to Dent.

  
  
“You killed my dad.” The words sounded cold and mechanical, just like everything else he says as the Knight.

  
  
Everything went quiet for a moment. Then Cobblepot laughter echoed around the room.

 

“Bloody Hell Dent. You've done it now.” He sounded pleased at the prospect.

  
The rest of the villains present didn't seem to find the situation as amusing. Jason wasn't sure if it was because they actually cared about Dent, or if after the demonstration of his abilities, they realized that he wasn't exactly someone you wanted to get angry.

 

Harley looked especially nervous; maybe she had recognized who he was, remembered all the reasons he had to want to kill her.

 

“Sorry?” The voice was softer, kinder—sincere; the voice of Harvey Dent.

 

“Don't be. He deserved it.” And Jason meant it. If anything that abusive bastard had deserved worse.

 

The room defused. With the threat of violence gone, the meeting could continue.

 

* * *

 

Ivy turned them down, but it didn’t matter. They didn’t need her, not when it came down to it. But they couldn’t let her leave, not with all she knew. 

 

She was incapacitated and taken to Scarecrow’s penthouse in Chinatown. Jason couldn’t risk her interfering, not when he was this close. 

 

* * *

 

A few hours after the meeting had ended, just like Jason had known they would, Dent and Harvey broke the ceasefire.

  
He found their muscle at the docks, preparing to exterminate each other. Jason took them out, leaving one on each side alive to deliver a message—just creepy and threatening enough to ensure compliance—to their bosses.

 

With that taken care of, Jason knew Dent and Cobblepot wouldn’t be causing any more problems. At least, not for him.

 

* * *

 

The attack on the dinner went seamlessly. Scarecrow’s message afterwards had the desired effect. Gotham was being evacuated.

 

Jason briefed his soldiers for the last time. Finally, after two years, Operation Savior was about to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering, Shiva’s reason for wanting Batman dead will be revealed in chapter five. And in case anyone missed it, the girl around Jason's age he worked with to take down the trafficking ring in Russia was Cassandra Cain.


	4. Operation Savior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this chapter took so long. I had a rough month. It'll probably be awhile before you get the final chapter, too.

This was it. In just a few short hours, Operation Savior would begin. By the time the sun came up, Batman would be dead, and Jason would be free.

 

The drones, tanks, and missile launcher were fully operational. The transport choppers and APCs had full tanks of gas, with extra back at base. The locations for watchtowers, checkpoints, and bomb deployment had been strategically planned by one of the world's best tacticians. Jason was hacked into Batman’s communications. And if all else failed, contingencies were in place.

 

His army would not be beaten. Jason would not be beaten. Batman was going to die. Tonight.

 

* * *

 

Jason wasn’t pleased with the news that Batman had located and breached Scarecrow’s penthouse in Chinatown. Ivy was being held there, and there was no doubt about in Jason’s mind that she would tell Batman everything she knew; it wasn’t much, but Jason still didn’t like it.

 

He dispatched a drone and a handful of soldiers to meet Batman on his way out. He couldn’t have sent more, but it would have been pointless. They wouldn’t reach him before he got to Ivy, and it wasn’t time for him to die yet; he needed to suffer first.

 

His deployment contacted him via the direct communication channel. “We've got the target, sir. He’s cornered.”

 

Jason doubted that. “Are you sure it’s him?”

 

“Confirmed. It’s Batman.”

 

As soon as the words were uttered, Jason heard the Batmobile and knew that his deployment would be taken out within seconds. He dispatched six more unarmed tanks—a taste of what was to come—and made his way to his personal helicopter.

 

He had a feeling that Batman would arrive at ACE Chemicals soon and wanted to give him a proper welcome.

 

* * *

 

When communications were lost with the soldiers assigned to guard the Falcone Shipping Yard Antenna, Jason knew Batman’s arrival was imminent.

 

Sure enough, less than five minutes later, Batman appeared on the bridge leading to the ACE Chemicals Plant.

 

Jason knew Batman would stop Scarecrow's fear toxin bomb for detonating, had based his entire operation around this phases' failure. Still,  Jason wouldn’t make it easy for him—the deployment of drones and soldiers would make sure of that.

 

Nothing about tonight would be easy; Jason would chip away at him, piece by piece, till there was nothing left but a corpse.

 

With the knowledge on his mains that tonight he would finally find peace, Jason made his presence known by blowing up part of the bridge.

 

He flew over the chasm he had created and starred Batman down. Predictably, he didn’t flinch, in fact, he moved closer, like was some kind of hero.

 

It made Jason angry. How dare Batman act like this, after all the people he had failed.

 

The system override had kicked in, and a small part of Jason—the part who remembered Bruce as his father, imperfect but loving in his own way—was glad. Still, he couldn’t help himself from saying, “Time to die, old man,” and attempting to launch a missile straight into Batman’s face.

 

It was almost worth Scarecrow’s disapproving face appearing on his console, his patronizing words. “In death he has nothing left to fear. Kept him away from ACE Chemicals. Your vengeance will come.”

 

Jason did what he was told. He would let Scarecrow play boss, for now. It was best to keep him happy when Jason still needed him and his toxin.

 

Still, he couldn’t help but glaring down at Batman. “This ends tonight.”

 

His drones provided cover while he made his exit. Jason flew into the airspace above the plant, handed remote control of his helicopter over to a lieutenant back at HQ, relocated to a transport chopper that held a small troop of his soldiers, instructed the pilot to hover out of sight around the location of the nearest living hostage, and waited.

 

Batman would come to rescue the hostages. And when he did, he would have to face the Arkham Knight.

 

It didn’t matter that they had taken Scarecrow’s bribe—it never mattered how dirty they were, not to Batman. He would never leave anyone—innocent or not—to die. Not unless you were his partner.

 

Jason shook his head, not wanting to relive his time in Arkham. He couldn’t lose focus. Not when he was this close.

 

He contacted Scarecrow, hoping the distraction would help. “How much longer, Crane?”

 

“Forty minutes at the very most. Thirty if your soldiers hurry.”  

 

“Good,” Jason replied and switched channels. “Listen up! Scarecrow tells me the reaction is almost complete. Final evacuations of this facility will begin in T-minus thirty minutes.”

 

Jason switched back communication channels from his militia to Scarecrow. Despite the fact that he wanted Batman to suffer, that Operation Savior had been almost entirely his own plan, he couldn’t help but be angry that Scarecrow had forced him to allowed Batman to live. “I had him in my sights! I could have ended it right there!”

 

Scarecrow sounded annoyed. “We have not broken him yet. It will come.”

 

“No, I’ve waited long enough. Batman dies. Tonight.” And if Scarecrow tried to stop him again, he would too.

 

“Why do you hate him so much?”

 

Jason couldn’t help his voice from breaking. “You could never understand.”

 

“Your revenge is at hand. This is his last night.”

 

“I’ll make sure of it.” But, Jason had to admit that Scarecrow was right. Seeing Batman again after so long had clouded Jason judgment, made the pain and anger so much more vivid. But still, Batman deserved to suffer before his inevitable end. Just not for too long. Jason was tired of waiting.

 

* * *

 

It took Batman longer than Jason had expected to get the gate open. He must be getting slow in his old age.

 

He used the comms to inform his army of this development. “Main gates open. Get ready. You’ve got a billion-dollar tank headed straight for you.”

 

“We’ve deployed a Diamondback to the main courtyard, sir. We’ll crush him.”

 

They wouldn’t. That’s what the Cobra drones were for. Rattlers and Diamondbacks weren’t enough to stop someone like Batman.

 

“Sir, he punched through the armor, just like you said.”

 

“He’s searching for hostages. Keep not essential radio chatter to a minimum. He’ll be listening.”

 

Jason couldn’t resist addressing Batman directly. “You are listening, aren’t you Batman? Then listen to this. To all embedded units in Gotham, Operation Savior has begun. Each one of you has a role. Each of you _knows_ your role. So move out into this damn city and lock it down. I want our hands wrapped tight around Gotham’s throat within the hour.”

 

* * *

 

Batman found the hostage Jason was monitoring first and made short work of the soldiers guarding him. Jason waited for Batman to trap himself in the room with the hostage before making his move.

 

“Breach.”

 

His soldiers reacted in seconds. “We’re in, go go go! Spread out.”

 

Jason breached last, sticking the landing the way only someone with his training could. He walked towards the glass Batman was behind slowly, his first laugh in over two years slipping out. He wasn’t quite sure why, he didn’t feel overly happy, but it felt nice—foreign, but still nice—so he didn’t fight it. “Keep your guns trained on him. If he even looks like he’s planning to leave that room, open fire. Oh, and avoid the Bat Symbol. That’s a, uh, little trick. That’s where his armor’s the strongest. Aim for the weak spots at the shoulders first, the coordinate fire at the points where the plates meet.”

 

The worker—who’d had no problem taking Scarecrow’s money when he thought whatever Crane was planing wouldn’t affect him—had the nerve to beg. “Please.”

 

Jason turned to him. “You say something?”

 

Batman was quick to step in. “Leave him out of this.”

 

Jason moved slightly closer to the glass. “Always defending the weak and the helpless. That’s what I like about you. Predictable. That’s why we’re gonna win. We know your moves before you do. We know how you think.” On the word think, Jason slammed his hands on the glass. Batman didn’t flinch, but Jason had known he wouldn’t.

 

As Jason walked away from him, Batman asked, “Do you know what I’m thinking now?”

 

Jason laughed again, though it was bitter. He turned back to Batman. “Of course. You’re thinking, ‘Who the hell is this guy?’”

 

Batman put on a bravado, like always. “No, I’m just trying to decide which one of you I’m going to take out first.”

 

“Just so we’re both on the same page here, I fully, _fully_ intend to kill you. But first, we’re going to make you suffer.” Jason turned from Batman and contacted Scarecrow. “We have the target. Just say the word and I’ll end this now.” Jason both hoped for and dreaded Scarecrow giving the kill order. “Gotham will be ours.” Gotham would be Jason’s, and Crane would be lucky if Jason didn’t kill him once he outlived his usefulness.

 

Jason noticed just soon enough that Batman was controlling the Batmobile remotely; that was new. He dodged the projectile and grappled back into the transport chopper.

 

He could have stayed and fought, could have ended it, but he had meant what he said about making Batman suffer.

 

He was going to take away everything Batman cared about, starting with Gotham. His drones, long-range missile launcher, watchtowers, and checkpoints should get the job done.

 

It was crucial to prevent outside interference—a visit from the Justice League could ruin everything. Deploying bombs in key areas around the island should be enough of a deterrent.

 

“Aerial Unit C, I want the payload primed and ready to drop. Their army won’t be getting anywhere near this city.” Then, remembering the time, Jason added. “All remaining units, final evacuation in T-minus twenty minutes.”

 

Jason had barely finished speaking when he saw Batman maneuver the crane in such as way as to get the Batmobile further into the compound.

 

Not long after, the comm line crackled to life. “Rattler force engaged in the loading bay. Two Diamondbacks in support.”

 

“I’m watching.”

 

The drones were totaled within seconds.

 

“Sir, the tanks can barely touch alpha target’s vehicle. Offensive capability way beyond expectation.”

 

“He’s been busy.” Jason was impressed, but not with Batman; Lucius had really outdone himself on the latest round of upgrades.

 

Batman went to search for the rest of the hostages. Jason hopped in APC headed for the clocktower, took back remote control of his helicopter, and waited; he wanted to see what that car could do when Batman wasn’t holding back, but he wasn’t going to let it interfere with his current task.

 

With nothing to do till Batman returned to the courtyard or he arrived at the clocktower, he checked in on Operation Savior’s progress.

 

Phase One was going perfectly according to plan.

 

Thanks to a skillful deployment, he now had complete control over all bridge access in Gotham.

 

Founders Island had been occupied; Cobra Drones patrolled the streets, his long-range missile launcher, radar towers, watchtowers and checkpoints were in place, an abandoned shopping mall had been transformed into his field headquarters.

 

Soon Miagani would be overrun by drones, the Miagani tunnels occupied by his troops. By the time Batman was finished with Scarecrow’s bomb, he wouldn’t recognize Gotham.

 

The only thing missing was the explosives, but the first wave would be placed soon enough.

 

Jason took the time to key his army—and more importantly Batman—onto their success, and refresh orders. “Ground forces, Founders Island is under our control. Watchtowers and checkpoints are fully operational. I want attack units on Miagani now. Get me a drone patrolling ever back alley.”

 

* * *

 

When the onboard surveillance told him had Batman rescued the final hostage, he remotely brought his chopper into view and broadcasted. “Come on then, hero! Let’s see if you can keep up with me.”

 

Batman gave it as good as he got, and Jason couldn’t resist saying, “So, you’ve still not lost your touch. Good. That’s going to make this so more interesting.”

 

Batman got in a particularly well-placed shot. “Nice shooting. I wish I could be there. But then, you know, you’d just hold back.”

 

Eventual Batman managed to down his helicopter with that new tank of his. “Don’t think you’ve won, Dark Knight. Tonight you pay. For _everything_.”

 

Shortly after, he and his team had reached the clocktower. As they were preparing to breach the no doubt impressive defenses Barbara had set up, Jason received a message from Scarecrow. “Is the strike team ready?”

 

“I’m with them now.”

 

“The asset is a crucial part of my plan. Do not disappoint me.”

 

Jason resisted the urge to remind Scarecrow he wouldn’t even know about _the asset_ if it wasn’t for him. “Oh, I never disappoint.”

 

A few minutes later, after his team was ready to infiltrate the clocktower, Jason broadcast his final evacuation message. “This is it. All units evacuate the ACE Chemicals facility. I say again, this is the final evacuation order. Anyone left behind will die painfully and afraid. So move it!”  

 

Jason waited till he got the signal for Scarecrow, and disabled the clocktower’s security cameras. He could have disabled the CCTV cameras covering the entrance, but he wanted to leave Batman a trail.

 

The moment the feeds went offline, Jason and his strike team breached.

 

* * *

 

Barbara’s security was good—even better than Bruce’s—but it was no match for someone who knew what to expect. He bypassed it easily and was face to mask with Barbara in no time.

 

Thought she was concealing it, she was armed with the escrima sticks her and Dick were so fond of. Jason was glad to see her after so long, even as she swung at his head when was in range. He ducked, gently knocked the sticks from her hands, picked her up, and carried her back to the transport vehicle.

 

* * *

 

Barbara was quiet, too quiet. She was planning something; she had to be.

 

Jason suspicions were confirmed when Barbara pepper sprayed Woods. The car spun out of control, and Jason noticed Barbara tucking and rolling just seconds before they crashed.

 

Jason was almost impressed. Almost, because no matter how ingenious her plan was, he couldn’t be impressed with something that cost the life of one of his soldiers, even if it was partially said soldiers fault for not wearing his seatbelt.

 

He wondered, vaguely, how Barbara would feel, knowing that she had inadvertently caused someone to die. Probably not good. She still looked up to Batman—even though Jason personally thought she was twice the hero, twice the person Bruce would ever be—despite all that had happened, and it went against everything he stood for. Jason was positive that Batman would condemn her for this, even though it had been an accident.

 

Jason stumbled out of the car, just in time to see Barbara hide a microchip under wreckage on the side of the road.

 

Jason steadied himself before thanking a warning shot. Barbara stopped, and Jason picked her up, carried her to the road, and called for another vehicle.

 

He left the microchip. After the stunt she pulled, Barbara had earned the right to leave Batman a clue.

 

* * *

 

Jason dropped Barbara off at HQ and ordered his most trusted soldiers to guard her.

 

Just as he was leaving, word came in that Batman had stopped the ACE Chemicals attack, just like Jason had known he would, and he headed to the Miagani Tunnels.

 

Phase One was complete. It was time for Phase Two to began.

 

* * *

 

Jason was handling his militia's failure to apprehend Commissioner Gordon. He wasn’t handling it well—the broken comms unit and knife embedded in the wall attest to that—but he was handling it.

 

Gordon evading capture wasn’t the end of the word; with any luck, he would turn on Batman once he realized that Barbara’s kidnapping was his fault. And that had been the goal anyway—taking away another one of Batman’s allies.

 

Regardless, Jason had bigger things to worry about than one minor set back. He refused to let Batman think he had achieved even a minor victory. “I’ve got Oracle, Batman. Now you care who I am. Just got to find me. But Gotham’s a big place and there’s a whole army between us. I’m ready for you.”

 

Jason received word that the first wave of bombs had been successfully deployed. Jason knew based on the trail he left him that Batman would have seen the bomb on Bleake Island deployment, would currently be attempting to disarm it. He sent a deployment of drones to protect it.

 

“As you predicted sir, he’s trying to defuse the device. The drones you requested have been deployed.”

 

Jason made sure to stress the situation. “We need those bombs in play, sergeant. They’re our deterrent.”

 

“I know, sir. I’ll stop him dead.” Jason was starting to think he had given his soldiers too much confidence; their claims were starting to border on the ridiculous.

 

The line was quiet for a moment, then. “Multiple drones offline. What the hell what the hell was that?”

 

“The enemy’s acquired simultaneous strike capabilities. Think faster.” Jason directed his next words to Batman. “These machines are relentless. Unlike you, they don’t give up. They don’t hesitate. They don’t hold back. And they are not afraid of you, Batman.”

 

A few minutes after he was done speaking, Jason was informed that his drone deployment had been completely wiped out. Within seconds, Batman found a way to destroy his bomb.

 

It was expected, but that didn’t make the loss hurt any less. Still, Jason could use this to his advantage. He broadcasted a message publicly, made sure that everyone knew Gotham was off limits. “You think that’s it, Dark Knight? I’ve got this whole city wired to blow. Try and disarm my explosives, and you’ll face even more of my drones.” His composure started to slip. “Y’see I’ve waited years, and no one is taking this from me. They’ll get a charred crater if they try.”

 

Jason breathed in deeply and felt his mask fall back into place. Batman should be attempting to follow his trail onto Miagani right now. Just because he couldn’t bring the car didn’t mean he was still dangerous, and he wanted his army to remember that. “Listen up, we control the bridges but Batman can and will adapt. Stay alert, watch the skies.”

 

Jason almost laughed when, five minutes at the most after making his announcement, he received word that the team guarding Grand Avenue Station had been taken out.

 

“Glad you’re putting up a fight, Batman. I expected nothing less.”

 

Bridge control access was lost, but Jason didn’t let it bother him. Instead, he climbed up into the rafters. Batman would be tracking his broadcast location soon, and Jason would be waiting for him.

 

* * *

 

After what felt like hours of waiting, Batman finally made an appearance in the Miagani Tunnels.

 

Jason wasted no time in making his presence know descending from the rafters with grace, firing at Batman before decking him.

 

Batman made to get up, and Jason put his foot on his chest to hold him down. “Oh no, no, you’re not going anywhere old man.”

 

Jason studied Batman’s new suit and made a sound of approval. “Tri-weave, titanium coated, armor plating. Nice. Unless you know exactly where to shoot.” A well placed shot the chest had Batman groaning, struggling to move, to get up and fight—probably even to breathe—even though Jason was no longer holding him down.

 

It would be so simple to kill him now. A bullet to the head, a boot to the throat, a knife in the gut, and this would all be over. But instead of ending Batman’s miserable existence, Jason walked towards the door. Tonight wasn’t over, not by a long shot.

 

He gave Batman some parting word, just to make sure he hadn’t forgotten Jason’s promise to kill him at ACE Chemicals. “You’re good, Dark Knight. Even better than I remember. It’s going to make it even more satisfying when I kill you.” And to twist the knife deeper. “Oh, and don’t worry about Barbara. I’ll take better care of her than you ever did.” He’d take better care of everyone—Alfred, Lucius, Gotham—than he did.

 

Once he was out of the room he ambushed Batman in, he ordered his militia to keep him occupied.

 

“Batman’s in the control room. Show him what happens when he messes with _my_ city.”

 

And with that, he headed towards where the APC’s were being kept. He had a trick to pull on the World’s Greatest Detective.

 

* * *

 

Batman finished with Jason’s soldiers before he was ready for him, so Jason sent something bigger to keep him occupied for the time being.

 

“You’re not the only one who can bring a tank to a fist-fight. You’re just the only one afraid to use live rounds.”

 

* * *

 

By the time Batman had finished with the drones and caught up with his decoy, Jason had already made it to Penguin’s hideout.

 

It wasn’t necessary to contact Batman, but he deserved to have the face that he had been outsmarted rubbed in his face. “You think I didn’t know you were tracking my broadcast location? Here’s a lesson, Batman: I know how you think, which means I know how to beat you.”

 

He cut the line and made his way to the main room. In the center was Cobblepot, surrounded by a small army of goons.

 

“About bloody time you showed up.” Cobblepot huffed, impatient as always.

 

Jason said nothing, tossing him a duffel bag full of cash. Cobblepot palled, most likely remembering what the contents of the last duffel bag had been. He made one of his lackeys open it and sighed in relief when no severed heads spilled out.

 

“Pleasure doing business with you.”

 

Again, Jason said nothing and turned to leave. In the doorway he paused, considering the fact that his decoy had most likely spilled his guts to Batman. Jason should leave a trail, make things more interesting. “Cobblepot. If anyone asks, tell them I’ve gone to see Simon Stagg.”

 

Cobblepot squaked something in return, but Jason was already out the door.

 

* * *

 

Jason was briefing the boarding party when he received a message. “Sir, we just tracked a fast moving aircraft, heading in on Grand Avenue. This thing just pulled a J-turn clocking in a twelve g’s. I don’t know anything that can do that.”

 

Jason wondered why Batman had called in the Batwing. Did he not pack enough batarangs or something? Not that it mattered; Jason would make him regret it no matter the reason. “I do. Let’s show him what it means to go to war.”

 

Once again he experienced heavy drone casualties,  and it was starting to annoy Jason. Batman would be nothing with Lucius’ New And Improved War Machine™. “Hit him hard, sergeant. I want that car wrecked”

 

As the fight continued, Batman started to get sloppy, took hits that should have been easily avoidable. “Now your starting to see it, aren’t you? How for once you can’t keep up.”

 

Batman eventually finished off the drones, but the fight hadn’t been as smooth as the last. Jason was almost disappointed that he had worn him down so fast. He’d been hoping Batman would put up more of a fight.

 

* * *

 

Jason had just finished briefing his soldiers when he received word that Scarecrow wanted to recover the Cloudburst personally.

 

He groaned internally. Why did Scarecrow have to keep trying to change the plans?

 

“Sir, Stagg’s airship has been hooked and tethered. We’re reeling him in.”

 

Jason nodded, even though no one was around to see it. “Good. Get in there, find Stagg, and interrogate him. And lieutenant, I’m assigning you an extra unit. For guard duty.”

 

“Who are we guarding?”

 

Jason was very careful not to let any emotion into his voice. “Scarecrow. The boss wants to come aboard.”

 

* * *

 

By the time Jason arrived at the airships, Stagg had yet to be interrogated; but with only one area of the ships left unsearched, that fact was soon to be remedied.

 

Sure enough, when he took a team to search the labs on Airship Alpha, there was Stagg, sitting at a desk with his feet propped up, not a care in the world. The picture pissed Jason off.

 

Where did Stagg get off, flying high above in his million dollars airships, pretend to be a scientist when he was no better than a common thug.

 

Jason didn’t have to be as rough as he was, didn’t have to throw Stagg from his chair, or yank him by the back of his neck, or toss him down two flights of stairs, or push him to the ground every time the opportunity presented itself, but it was oh so satisfying seeing the rich bastard get what he deserved that Jason couldn’t stop himself.

 

He dragged Stagg to the hanger, and left him in the hands of one of his lieutenants and left the airship to ready Scarecrow’s evac.

 

* * *

 

Not fifteen minutes later, comm activity indicated that Batman was on Airship Alpha and headed for the lab.

 

Jason contacted the team placed there. “You’ve got a stowaway, gentlemen. Find him.”

 

His soldiers didn’t seem to agree with his assessment. “No way! Batman’s not stupid enough to try and come up here! We’re in a damn airship!”

 

“If he comes in here he’s dead.”

 

Jason didn’t know why their words made him so angry. He called Batman stupid and said that he was going to kill him all the time, but them saying it just didn’t sit right. “Don’t get cocky. You are _nothing_ compared to him. Make good use of that drone.”

 

Of course, the cocky idiots didn’t make good use of the drone and were taken out within minutes.

 

“Nice work, Batman. But c’mon, let’s be honest. It’s the new suit, right? Not the worn out hero inside.”

 

* * *

 

In no time, Batman made his way to Airship Beta. Jason alerted his soldiers of the new development. “You were warned. Batman is here. Let’s show him what we’ve learned. I want two teams. Team one, keep charging the Cloudburst. Team two, find him.”

 

Within minutes, the comm line went dead. “Scarecrow, my soldiers have stopped reporting in. And that only means one thing. You have seconds at best. Are we ready?”

 

“Not yet.” Jason was afraid Scarecrow would say that. “The Cloudburst must be fully charged.”

 

“Then we’ll have to do it off-site. Prepare for extraction.”

 

* * *

 

Scarecrow’s extraction went perfectly. The look and Batman’s face when the Scarecrow and Cloudburst disappeared from his view only to be replaced by Jason wilding a missile launcher was priceless. And marked the end of Phase Two.

 

Phase Three would begin just as soon as the Cloudburst was charged.

 

* * *

 

They had just arrived back at base when word came in from the team monitoring Scarecrow’s Chinatown penthouse that Batman had hallucinated Barbara dying and was headed to GCPD Lockup to recruit Ivy to somehow help him save Gotham with the power of plants.

 

As ridiculous as the notion, Jason couldn’t let him succeed. It was time to bring out the big guns.

 

“Prep the Cobra Drones for deployment.”

 

* * *

 

A scout for Jason’s deployment arrived just after Batman entered GCPD. He didn’t have much hope for the lone unit to occupy Batman too long.

 

“Attention all units, Cobra Unit dispatched to Sector Three. All nonessential personnel clear the immediate area.”

 

Not five minutes later, Kason received news of what he already knew. “Cobra scout destroyed? Impossible! We know what caliber rounds he’s using. The armor was impenetrable.”

 

“You can’t just roll a single heavy armor unit into the field and expect to crush him under it. He’s better than that. Initiate Stage Two attack protocols. Deploy all Cobra units in group formation.”

 

* * *

 

Before anyone even had time to spot him, Batman managed to take out one of the Cobras Tanks.  

 

Jason didn’t let it get to him, instead focusing on getting to Batman. And after the last bout of toxin, Barbara was his weak spot. “Did it hurt? Watching her die? Powerless to do anything.”

 

Batman didn’t answer, and another drone went offline. “Barbara Gordon worked for you! She fought for you! And look where it got her!” Look where it had gotten him.

  


The final drone went offline, and Jason vowed to send a larger deployment next time. “Whatever you’re planning. It won’t be enough. You can’t fix this. Tonight ends with Gotham’s fall, and me watch you die.”

 

* * *

 

The second a behemoth of a plant appeared on Miagani Island, Jason knew it had something to do with Batman and deployed a strike team equipped with missile launchers to take it down; he wasn’t going to let Ivy ruin all his hard work.

 

“Keep firing! Bring it down!”

 

“Yes sir. Establish a perimeter, no one gets on this roof.”

 

From the radio silence that followed, Jason assumed that Batman had gotten on the roof and taken out his men. And now, reports were showing, that Ivy had hardened the plant to withstand even the most potent of weapons. The plant wasn’t coming down. Worse, Batman though he could use it to stop Scarecrow’s toxin.

 

Jason lost it.

 

* * *

 

Jason had just calmed down when Radar Tower A went offline. “All units, we’ve lost radar coverage in Sector One!”

 

“Probable malfunction. I’m assigning tech now.”

 

Jason was starting to think that his army hasn't paid attention to anything he’d said over the last two years. “Delay that order. It was Batman. Radar Tower B, prepare yourselves. Alpha target incoming.”

 

The soldiers at Radar Tower B obviously didn’t heed his warning. “We’ve lost the second radar.”

 

“He bypassed the sentry guns. How is that possible?” Because anything is possible when you run on spite and paranoia, not that was any of these incompetents business.

 

“Just keep the missile launcher in play. I control these skies.” And  Batman wasn’t going to take them back. Jason wouldn’t let him.

 

With nothing better to do, he checked in on the team guarding his missile launcher. “Gamma Four, status?”

 

There was no answer.

 

“Gamma Four, do you copy?”

 

One of his lieutenants said what he was thinking. “Sir, he’s going for the defense shield.”

 

“Sir, Batman’s lowering all three bridges into Founders Island.” Another added.

 

“He's bringing in the car to destroy the missile launcher. Deploy Strike Team Delta to the target location now.”

 

“Yes sir. What about the Batmobile?”

 

“Activate the Cobra Squadron. Run it into the ground.”

  


* * *

 

Batman wiped out the Cobra Squadron, but that was of little concern at the moment.

 

“Strike Team Delta deployed, sir. They’re heading to target location.”

 

“You’re trapped, Dark Knight. You put up a good fight. But now you lose.”

 

Jason—along with strike Team Delta—made it to Batman’s location in record time.

 

“Rooftop’s clear. Target’s in the control room. Moving to secure.”

 

“Hold off, lieutenant. He’s mine.” Jason kicked the door open to reveal a seemingly empty room. There was no doubt in Jason’s mind that Batman was here; he was just hiding, like the coward he was.

 

But his militia didn’t know him like Jason did. “Where’d he go?”

 

“Raise the defense shield. Keep all access points covered.”

 

There was no way to find Batman, not when he didn’t want to be found. Jason would have to give him a reason to come out, make him think he had the element of surprise. And he knew just how to make that happen.

 

Jason made his posture relax and contacted Scarecrow. “Sir, the launcher is secure. As long as we control the skies, he’ll never find it.”

 

“Good. Are we still on schedule?”

 

“We’re entering the final phase.”

 

“Your patience will be rewarded soon.” Sooner than Scarecrow thought, if Batman would just stop hiding.

 

Jason heard him before he saw him. He took down five of his soldiers in seconds. Then he came for Jason. It was easy to counter and copy Batman’s every move, satisfying to wrap his hand around Batman’s throat.

 

“Who are you?”

 

It would be so simple to snap Batman's neck and take his revenge; he had suffered—not as much as Jason, but enough for Jason to be satisfied. There was nothing stopping him, and yet, Jason didn’t.

 

He just said, “Not yet Dark Knight,” activated a smoke pellet, and returned to base. He wasn’t sure who he confused more by doing so, himself or Batman.

 

Jason hadn’t even made it back to base yet when his missile launcher went offline.

 

“You think you can outwit me? You think I’m just like all the others?”

 

Batman didn’t respond.

 

* * *

 

It had been over an hour there had been no sightings of Batman. Both Scarecrow and his army were getting twitchy.

 

“Sir, maybe Batman—”

 

“No, no, no, don’t tell me he’s gone! He’s still out there. I know he is. Batman doesn’t retreat.” He lies, he abandons, he forsakes, but he doesn’t retreat. “I’m sending in reinforcements. Find him.”

 

* * *

 

Jason was proven right when Batman disarmed all of the deployed bombs, shut down all of the checkpoints, and destroyed all but one of his watchtowers.

 

It was starting to feel like Batman was doing this just to spite him. Searching for the Cloudburst should be his top priority, and yet, here he was, focusing on Jason’s militia.

 

The final watchtower went offline, and Jason could help but loss his cool, just for a moment. “I’m gonna rip that cape of your back and choke you with it.”

 

Taking a deep breath, Jason tried to relax. The Cloudburst would be charged soon and Jason would have his revenge.

 

* * *

 

Jason’s discussion with his second and third in command was cut short when one of the soldiers he had tasked with guarding Barbara ran into the room.

 

“Sir,” she panted. “I tried to stop him, but he wouldn't listen.”

  
“Who?”  
  
“Scarecrow, sir. He’s with Gordon.”  
  
And just like that, Jason was gone, racing down the hall to where he had left Barbara. As he neared the room, he could make out Barbara and Scarecrow’s voices.

 

“Are you done talking?”

 

“I am. But you have barely begun. You'll be incoherent when my toxin dissolves the wall between your conscious mind and your suppressed, subconscious nightmares. But as those fears slowly recede, they'll take this pathetic defiance with them.”

 

“You’re still talking.”

 

“Very well—” Jason all but kicked the door down, cutting off Scarecrow.

 

“Get the hell away from her!” The modulator couldn’t erase the anger and panic in his voice.

 

Scarecrow looked like he was going to object, then thought better of it. He held his hands up in mock surrender. “Very well.”

 

He slowly made his way out of the room, pausing in the doorway to deliver a parting message. “Till next time, miss Gordon.”

 

Jason waited until Scarecrow was all the way down the corridor, then walked over to Barbara and assessed her for injuries. “He’s gone. Did he hurt you?”

 

The fire in Barbara’s eyes was familiar. Jason had missed it, had missed so much about his old life. “Spare me the good cop, bad cop routine.”

 

Jason couldn’t help himself from saying, “No, no, no, no. See, you're supposed to keep me talking. Play for time. Wait for Batman. That’s what he taught you, right?”

 

“I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

 

Jason laughed a harsh, bitter laugh. “Me, I talked for hours. ‘Cause I knew, right? Batman was on his way to save me. The bastard let me talk… eventually I just, ran out of things to say. So trust me. You can't count on Bruce to save you.”

 

You can’t count on Bruce for anything that matters.

 

Barbara’s eyes widened. “Bruce?”

 

Jason’s voice was just as bitter as his laugh. “Mmm, yeah, Scarecrow doesn't know. It’s our little secret. Now here’s another. Batman likes to play the hero, Barbara, and he’s pretty good at it. But it’s an act. Batman’s not about saving the innocent. Oh no, he’s about punishing the guilty.” Jason paused for a moment. “Now, don't get me wrong. He'll look for you. Or, he’ll try. But when it comes down to it, when he has to make a choice between you and the mission? He'll choose the mission. Every time.”

 

“You're wrong.” Jason couldn’t stand the finality in her tone.

 

Jason ripped off his helmet. “Look me in the eye and say that.”

 

“Jason?”

 

Jason laughed again, just as harsh and bitter as the first.

 

“Jason, this is wrong.”

 

Jason’s could barely make the words come out. “This is justice.” Then, he thought of the Asylum, and couldn’t help but shout. “He left me!”

 

Barbara’s voice was pleading. “He _lost_ you! And he mourned for you. Come home.” I

 

“I can't go back.” Jason knew his voice betrayed the fact that he was close to tears. “You don't understand what Joker did, Barbara. He hollowed me out and filled me back up with hate and—” Jason trailed off, unable to finish.

 

“Jason, we can fix it.”

 

“I can fix it,”  Jason yelled. Barbara startled, so he continued in a much softer tone. “I know now what to do. I take all this pain, all this blackness, and I put it all in a bullet, and I put it right between Bruce's eyes.”

 

Barbara didn’t sound pleading anymore. It was the voice she used when Bruce was being particularly stubborn. “Joker’s dead, Jason. You want revenge on the man that hurt you? You’ve got one shot. Come back to the manor. Let’s us help you. Don't let Joker win.”

 

Jason couldn’t listen to her. If she was right, that meant that this was all for nothing. And if all this was for nothing, then Jason didn’t know how to fix what the Joker broke.

 

Jason sighed and changed the subject. “How’s Alfred?”

 

“He misses you. We all do.” Jason doubted that. Dick, Alfred, and Barbara, sure. But Bruce and whoever he replaced Jason with, not a chance.

 

The sound of Scarecrow’s footsteps echoed down the hall causing Jason to hastily throw on his mask.

 

“The Cloudburst is charged, Knight. It’s time.”

 

Securing his mask, Jason glared right at Scarecrow to make sure he got the message. “Someone put a gag on her. Anyone hurts her, they're a dead man.”

 

As he made his way towards his Cloudburst equipped tank, Jason tried to push Barbara’s words out of his head. But they refused to leave, buzzing around in his head like angry hornets.

 

* * *

 

It was T-minus fifteen minutes to City of Fear when Jason received some interesting news.

 

“Sir, we just lost three drones near the Botanical Gardens.”

 

If Ivy was going to side with the enemy, then Jason would treat her as such. “She just couldn’t help herself. Deploy the Diamondbacks and Twin Rattlers. Take her out.”

 

Jason monitored the assault; it wasn’t sounding good.

 

“The vines. They’re everywhere.”

 

“The plant’s still fighting sir, we’re taking damage.”

 

If it wasn’t for Ivy… “Batman’s got the muscle, sergeant. But he always needs a little help.”

 

“I’m not losing here. Not again.”

 

Jason rolled his eyes. The drone deployment had been almost entirely wiped out already. It would be a miracle for the remaining few to even hit Batman, much less beat him. A squadron of Cobras should remedy that. “That’s right. You’re not.”

 

Not even a minute later, “It’s going to hell, sir.” Jason refrained from saying no shit. He was a professional, after all. “Sir? Do you read me?”

 

“Yes, I read you. This is in hand.” Just not yours, incompetent as they are.

 

“The attack drones are destroyed. We can’t take Ivy with Batman protecting her.”

 

“I’ve deployed Cobra tanks. Kill him or run him off the island.” Jason doubted his sergeant with managed to accomplish either, but it was worth a shot.

 

“I have a lock on his position now, sir. He’s surrounded.”

 

* * *

 

By T-minus two minutes to City of Fear, Batman had taken out all but one of the Cobra tanks.

 

“I can’t stop him.”

 

“You don’t need to.” Jason would.

 

Another minute passed and another drone bit the dust. “He’s taken out the Cobras, sir.”

 

“Don’t think you’ve won, Batman. You will lose. Everything.” Just like Jason lost everything.

 

Jason waited precisely forty-seven seconds, then activated the Cloudburst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, that this chapter ends just as City of Fear is beginning. Don't worry, I'm going to write Jason's POV of the Cloudburst fight and Mall confrontation. I was originally planning to include them in this chapter, but then I got to thinking and realized that those scenes would fit in better in the final chapter.


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